


And They Lived Happily Ever After

by AsexualArchivist



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jonny don’t interact, M/M, and they were husbands, extremely minor injury, god they are just so gay, jon has chronic pain, jon uses a cane, jons a middle school teacher in this world it’s not important but I wanted to bring it up, shameless fluff, the happy ending they deserve but won’t get, wrote this in a haze at 1 am last night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23805244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AsexualArchivist/pseuds/AsexualArchivist
Summary: Just a cute little story about Jon and Martin being husbands in Scotland like they DESERVE!
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 14
Kudos: 259





	And They Lived Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I don’t know why I wrote this I was just yearning I guess. 
> 
> I just think Jon and Martin deserve to be happy jonny do NOT interact.
> 
> Also I couldn’t think of a title listening to Regina Spektor songs like I usually do failed me this time 😔 but they deserve to live happily ever after I’m right.

_It really is a nice day for a walk_ , thought Martin as he walked arm in arm with his husband. He tilted his face up towards the sun, sighing as he felt warmth run through him. Days like this were worth savoring a little, even if he heard Jon chuckle a bit beside him.

“Hmm?” He hummed, barely opening his eyes to give his husband a soft, hazy look.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon replied. His smile was so small and lovely. Martin desperately wanted to kiss it. “Just thinking about how adorable you are.”

Martin laughed and leaned in closer, planting a quick peck on the corner of Jon’s mouth before he could react. He laughed again at Jon’s embarrassed mumbling. Martin didn’t have to look over to see how red his husband’s face was.

You think he’d have gotten used to Martin’s affection after five years, but his face still flushed all the same.

Scotland was really something to behold in the spring. It all felt a little like going back in time, to some place simpler and homier where every face was warm and familiar and home was always close enough to run back before dinner. At least, that’s what Martin imagined it was like to grow up here. He secretly thought it would be a wonderful place to raise a child. He secretly thought about it quite a lot, if he were being honest with himself. He was planning to mention it to Jon soon, but... not right now. He just wanted to enjoy this time out with his husband in the warm Scottish air.

He looked over at Jon. His brow was furrowed slightly as he stared off into the distance. Martin could see him mouthing something silently to himself.

The man really never did take a break from work, did he?

“Jon.” Martin tugged at his wrist. “No writing lectures in your head while we’re on our walk.”

Jon’s attention snapped back with a smile. “I’ve got to stay ahead, you know. Be prepared for anything. I swear to Christ, those kids can smell both weakness and flexible class scheduling that can be exploited.”

“Probably so. I was the same way when I was their age.”

Jon made an affronted noise. “I wasn’t!”

Martin laughed fully at that, nearly having to stop to catch his breath in the middle of the street. The image of a thirteen year old Jon, sitting at rapt attention at the front of the class wearing his usual sweater vest and old man slacks, was just too much for him. He finally quieted down a bit later to appease Jon’s grumbling.

“I’m sure you were the very best in your class.”

“I definitely was,” Jon said, still sounding a bit rumpled.

“But were you as cute back then as you are now?” Martin pondered. “I don’t really think it’s possible for you to be any cuter, but surely thirteen year old Jon was dashing in his own way.”

“Oh, Martin K Blackwood-Sims, don’t you _dare_ go pestering Georgie for those old photo albums again. See, this is exactly why I haven’t actually gotten them back from her yet.”

Martin snorted. “So you admit such a photo of you exists?”

Jon was, tellingly, silent.

“Oh, it’s bad, isn’t it?” Martin was nearly beside himself with glee. “I bet you were going through your grunge phase.”

“I did NOT have a grunge phase,” Jon pouted. “It’s not my fault you look just as adorable as you do now in all your childhood photos.”

Martin shrugged, smiling at the warm little feeling in his stomach that always came when Jon said he was cute. “They’re all boring, if you ask me.”

“I think they’re lovely,” Jon said quietly. Martin hummed again, drawing Jon in to kiss the top of his head.

“Oh, Martin! Look!” Jon broke away suddenly, making his way over to a bush by the side of the road.

“Uh- what?” He asked, as Jon knelt down, dropping his cane, and began to peer into the bushes. 

“I saw a cat dash right under here,” Jon explained, still looking intently. 

“Oh... Kay?” God, Martin hoped Jon wasn’t going to try to bring home _another_ cat. Martin loved the things, but three cats was quite enough for the both of them, he thought.

“It had a collar on, we can call the owner,” Jon said. Then his voice rose as he began to call to the cat. “Here, kitty, come here, baby. We’re not going to hurt you. Yes, that’s a good kitty.”

Martin definitely did not record a little video of Jon doing his “cat voice”, as he liked to call it. Not at all.

Martin got his phone ready as Jon coaxed the cat from under the bush. He held it still as he read off the number to Martin, who dutifully called and informed the owner of their whereabouts. Once that was done, he sat down on the side of the road next to Jon, who was looking wistfully after the cat who had returned to its hiding place in the bushes.

“Martin, we should ge-“

“Nope. We don’t need another cat, Jon.”

Jon looked at Martin with the saddest eyes. “I know, but...”

Martin sighed and shook his head. Then he got sight of a splash of red on Jon’s sleeve.

“Oi, did the cat get you?” He asked, pointing out the blood stain. Jon did a double take, then his face scrunched up into a (cute) angry frown.

“Damn bastard tore my shirt sleeve!” He complained. “This is one of my favorite shirts.”

Martin eyed him critically. “...That shirt?”

Jon looked downright wounded at that. “You bought me this shirt last year! For our anniversary!”

“Yes, yes, I remember, but... it was sorta as a joke?” Martin said, trying not to laugh too visibly at Jon’s affronted expression.

“A joke?” He asked. Jon looked back down at the shirt, as if the hidden prank would reveal itself I’d he looked hard enough.

“It’s covered in eyes!” Martin laughed.

“I thought those were flowers...” Jon finished lamely, looking critically down at the shirt again. “And, besides, I look quite good in it. And... eyes are still... cool...”

Martin was absolutely going to run out of air. “Cool?!” He choked.

“Yes,” said Jon simply, giving Martin a sharp look that was too soft around the edges to truly be angry. “Eyes are cool. They’re very... aesthetic? Is that the word you use?”

“Oh, God, Jon, stop, stop, you’re going to make me hyperventilate,” Martin got out between the laughs. How strange was it that Jon could go from knowing absolutely everything to knowing absolutely nothing. Sometimes in the same sentence. Jon pouted as Martin kept on laughing.

“Alright, let me take a look at it,” he got out finally, trying not to giggle.

Jon pushed up his sleeve and Martin looked intently at the scratch mark running down Jon’s arm. It was... sort of deep. It looked a little bit painful. Martin winced in sympathy.

“Now do you feel bad for laughing at me?” Jon pouted, looking away. “I’m _injured_.”

“Oh, poor baby.”

“What if I bled out and died right here on the side of the road? Mauled to death by a viscous orange cat?”

Martin tolled his eyes. “Jon-“

“Not even my doting, loving husband cared enough to see to my wounds... a tragedy, indeed.”

Martin chuckled. “Oh, hush. I’ll bandage it up when we get home.”

Jon gave him a mischievous look. “Kiss it better?”

Martin sighed, and pressed a kiss to the wound. Jon smiled.

“Ah, I feel better already.”

“If I get some sort of cat disease from kissing your gross cut and die, I’m haunting you forever,” Martin said.

The cat’s owner pulled up after not much longer, thanking Jon and Martin over and over again for finding their precious “Cheeto.” The cat immediately ran to them, purring loudly as it curled around their legs.

As soon as they were gone, Jon rose from the ground with a wince. Martin was immediately at his side, handing him his cane.

“Your leg bothering you again?” He asked.

“My back,” Jon complained, his face pinched just slightly with the pain. “Crouching down and looking for that damn cat didn’t do me any favors.”

Martin tutted. “Can’t be doing things like that at your age, Mr. Blackwood-Sims.”

“I’m not even forty,” Jon whined, leaning heavily on his cane. 

Martin looked at his husband’s frail frame, his hair streaked through almost completely with grey. He didn’t often think about how much the Institute had aged both of them, but looking at Jon... it made his heart ache. How much of his life had he given to that place? To the Eye?

“Can you make it back home?” He asked quietly instead.

Jon scoffed. “Yes, Martin. I’m perfectly capable of walking home under my own power-“

“ _Jon._ ”

Jon sighed. “I’ll be alright, Martin. It isn’t quite that bad yet. I’ll just need to have a bit of a lie down when we get back.”

“I’ll get out the heating pad,” Martin said. He linked arms with Jon, trying to offer some support as they made their slow way back home.

“What kind of a cat name is ‘Cheeto’, anyway,” Jon muttered, and Martin laughed as the sun dipped below the horizon, turning the sky a brilliant orange and pink and red.

Maybe he’d bring up adoption when they got back home, when Jon was nestled comfortably on the couch with his back supported by pillows, and Martin was snuggled in next to him. Maybe then, but not now. For now, he just looked at Jon, his husband, and thought for the hundredth time how lucky he was to have him, and how much happier they both were now that they were together.

That was more than enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!! Hmu at asexualarchivist on tumblr
> 
> Also big shout out to the cat I found named Cheeto who scratched me Quite badly while I was trying to find its owner, this story is for you. Love u baby I forgive you for being mean.


End file.
